


Peerage

by PanicFOB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Modern Royalty, Princess!Reader, brother!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21512107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicFOB/pseuds/PanicFOB
Summary: Your royal life has just become all the more complicated by a new agreement that your father signed alongside the prime minister. The pressure is becoming unbearable, but an old friend of your older brother’s might turn out to be your saving grace.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I told myself I wasn't going to start a new series until I finished writing Applied Ethics... But here I am starting a new series despite having four more chapters of that left to write. I was binge-watching season 3 of The Crown and I just couldn't stop myself from writing this first chapter of a new series. I hope you like it!

Breaking: Rules of Succession Finally Changed!

While King Patrik has been in talks with Prime Minister Potts for three years on this matter, it is only now that the agreement has officially been signed and instated. What does this mean for the royal family going forward? Well, the person most directly influenced by this rule change would be Princess Y/N. She will overtake her younger brother, Prince Percival, and become second in line to the throne, just behind her older brother, Prince Steven. No longer will a woman be surpassed in the line of succession simply by having the misfortune of a brother younger than her. Congratulations and best wishes to Princess Y/N who could very well be our ruling monarch someday.

King Patrik commented on the agreement, saying, “This is something I have cared deeply about since watching my older sister, Princess Marigold, be passed over for the throne. Despite her being older, far wiser, and having much more formal training than myself, the duty was presented to me simply because I am male. This isn’t fair, and I would never wish that same sting to be felt by my lovely daughter.”

“What a load of rubbish,” you muttered under your breath. “Have you read this, Natasha?” you called out to your personal security as you waved your phone about in her direction. You’d read the article on Twitter, where you kept up with all the most important trending topics.

“I have, Your Highness.”

“Apparently, I’m to be congratulated. I’m second in line as opposed to third. Isn’t it spectacular?”

“I take it, it’s not?” she asked, picking up on your sarcastic inflection as she stood next to your bed.

“Of course it’s not, Nat. You’ve known me for years now, and you know how much I despise the mere idea of ever having to be a bloody queen. Now my father’s gone and done the unthinkable, making it even more likely that the very thing I loathe just might happen. Lucky me.”

Natasha, the person most in charge of your safety but also your best friend, snatched the phone out of your hand and sat it on your nightstand. She glanced around to make sure nobody was standing in your open bedroom door before addressing you informally, not as her princess but as her friend. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this makes things more complicated for you, more burdensome, but you’ll only make it worse by exposing yourself to the toxicity of the internet. Look on the bright side, Peggy could become pregnant any day now, and then you’d be third in line once again.”

“Maybe Steve will knock her up with twins, then I’ll be moved all the way down to fourth. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

She sat down at the edge of your bed and placed a caring hand on your shoulder. “I’ll talk to Sam, have him bring up the topic of children as often as possible with Steve.”

“That’s a great idea, Nat. Thank you.”

“Now, would you like to hear the other bad news for the day?”

You let out a groan in response.

“Your mother has requested a meeting with you for lunch.”

A glance at the clock told you that was only forty-five minutes away.

“This ought to be fucking fantastic. That woman is relentless, and I’m sure she’ll be expecting me to coo over father for doing me such a service with this damned agreement.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, darling. Come on, up you get.” She pulled you unceremoniously out of the bed, and you began the arduous task of becoming a presentable princess for the day.

“Your Royal Highness, I present your daughter, Princess Y/N,” you heard one of your mother’s staff workers announce before you walked into the dainty tea room where she preferred to host her sessions of pestering. The Queen Regent was beautiful, the same golden blond hair as your older brother’s, but her vibrant eyes were your very own. You hated looking into them. When you did, it made you see all the worst parts of yourself.

You slipped your phone back into the hidden pocket of your casual dress. Your mother liked to pretend that modern technology didn’t exist. She was still living in the seventies, an era prior to your unfortunate birth, and any spotting of an iPhone seemed to send her into an irritated fit.

As you sat down and immediately began eating the tiny, cube-shaped sandwiches on the table, her interrogation began.

“Any prospects?”

“Nothing new to report, I’m afraid.”

“You are running out of time, Y/N. Twenty-eight,” she said with a disappointed shake of the head, “it is nearly a crime for a woman not to be married at such an age.”

You scoffed, and the tiny bits of sandwich in your mouth spewed on the table. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“I suppose that explains why the last five gentlemen I have sent your way have not made any marriage offers.”

You wiped your mouth and cleared your throat. “That’s probably it. Suppose I should stop spitting food at all my dates. How could I have never realized that before?” Your tone was dripping with sarcasm.

She chose to ignore it. “I cannot emphasize enough how important it is for you to be wed now that you have moved up in the line of succession. It is no longer a faraway possibility but rather a likely fate that you will be monarch one day. You cannot take on that role as a single woman.”

“You don’t think Steve and Peggy will be having children anytime soon?”

“Steven is trying his best to produce many heirs, but Peggy remains without child. You cannot rely on that happening to excuse you of your duties.”

“It’s really nice to hear that you and Steven talk so openly about his heir making endeavors,” you joked.

Queen Elisia didn’t appreciate your humor, however.

“I have spoken with your father about this at great length. We have come to a collective decision.”

You raised an eyebrow, only now interested. It was a practice that infuriated you: other royals making decisions that directly impacted your life. “Oh? What sort of decision?”

“If you are not married to a suitable match by your thirtieth birthday, your father and I will arrange it.”

You felt your heart sinking, falling right through the bottom of your chest. Or was that just the tiny sandwiches, settling into the pit of your stomach. Either way, it made you nauseous. 

“Your mother is driving me insane,” Peggy said as the two of you sipped lemonade at an adorable little brunch place outside of the palace the following day.

“That makes two of us,” you agreed.

“Every time I run into her, she looks at my stomach for a lingering moment and then says ‘any news?’ as if that’s all I am, a bloody baby maker.”

You suddenly felt very guilty for how much you wished Steve and Peggy would have a child already. You’d have to tell Natasha not to say anything to Sam about it after all.

You reached out and placed your hand gently over your sister-in-law’s. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with that. You should be allowed to have a child when it best suits your life and marriage and not have to deal with all the pressure.”

“Thank you. I mean honestly, how does one expect a woman to conceive under such stressful conditions?”

You shook your head, signaling that you had no explanation for it either. “The life of a royal: the men get to do whatever they fucking want, while the women aren’t allowed to be anything other than wives and mothers. How modern! How progressive! Should I publically praise my parents for being champion feminists?”

Peggy nearly snorted lemonade out of her nose at your ridiculous joke.

“Your Highness,” Natasha said as she leaned down over your shoulder, “need I remind you that we’re in a public setting? Those sorts of comments would not be appreciated if they ended up in a newspaper.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at both Natasha and Wanda, Peggy’s own security guard, who were each giving you a disapproving look.

“What’s the latest thing Queen Elisia has done to piss you off?” Peggy wondered.

“If I don’t find a husband on my own before I’m thirty, she and father are forcing me into an arranged marriage,” you whispered. That was something you certainly didn’t want the world to know about.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting at Steve’s birthday party?” she suggested.

You shrugged. It seemed no matter how much effort you put in at any festive occasion to chat up the eligible bachelors in attendance, each one consistently proved to be vapid and inconsiderate of a woman’s liberty in the modern world. You refused to tie yourself to some man who thought it was his place to tell you what to do.

“I wouldn’t put my money on it,” you finally said. “I’ve met nearly every single one of Steve’s friends already. Makes me worry about my brother’s choices that he hangs around with the likes of those fools.”

“But this is his thirtieth, which means a bigger party than ever before. I guarantee there will be loads of guests you’ve never seen before.”

You took a long sip of your lemonade. “Perhaps…”

Buckingham Palace was so large that you had the pleasure of going days at a time without running into other members of your family. It wasn’t until later that week that you saw your older brother. He’d been in America, smoothing some things over with US/British relations. They seemed to adore him across the pond. Young women fawned over him. The newspapers often called him Mr. America because he was so in touch with the people of their country.

You had just been heading out to the garden with your best camera, hoping to catch some nice photos of the glistening raindrops on the leaves of the shrubbery right after the dreary English rain had let up.

He and Sam, his own security personnel, were walking down a long corridor, heads close, whispering about something that looked important.

“Steve!” you called out when you spotted him. His head snapped up and a bright grin grew across his face. “I’m so glad you’re back!” You gave him a warm hug but made sure not to let the camera hanging around your neck get crushed.

When you pulled away, you gave Sam a nod. “It’s good to see you as well, Wilson.”

“Likewise, Princess.”

You narrowed your eyes. He knew you hated being called that, but you and Sam had a longstanding poker rivalry that seemed to show itself in any interaction between the two of you.

“We’ll have to grab a game sometime soon,” you told him.

“Can’t wait to wipe the floor with you, Your Highness,” he said with a teasing smirk.

“All right, what did I tell you about talking shit to my little sister, Sam?” Steve asked in a mock authoritative voice.

“That she deserves it considering she talks more shit than anyone in the family?”

You let out a delighted laugh. The palace really was a brighter and more joyful place when Steve wasn’t away on foreign duties. You hoped that if Peggy did become pregnant, it would mean he would stay home more often.

“Got a new buyer for your pictures, Y/N?” Steve pointed to the clunky camera weighing you down.

“Yeah, I’ve been in touch with a nature magazine. They’ve given me a four-page spread to show off the outdoor landscapes surrounding the palace.”

“That’s fantastic. Well done.”

You said a small thank you and left Steve and Sam to their business, finishing your long trek through winding halls until you finally emerged into the open air. You weren’t alone, of course. Although Natasha wasn’t currently with you, there were dozens of guards whose job it was to stand day and night at all of the palace entrances. You could feel them watching you from the corners of their eyes as you strolled alongside flowerbeds and wandered around tree lines, snapping carefully chosen photographs as you went.

This was your hobby. It would have been your career if you’d been allowed to have one. It was what brought you peace. What made you feel normal in a suffocating world full of elitist rules.

As a princess, you could survive the madness just to have these blissful moments of escapism, but if you had to be Queen, you’d never get a moment to yourself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give a big thanks to the lovely Brittypop09 for providing me with the humorous nickname for Bucky that comes up later in the chapter :)

A Mature Heir

The entire nation has watched His Royal Highness, Prince Steven grow from a cheerful boy, to a well-educated young man, and then to the confident diplomat and excelling leader that he is today. At thirty, many past royals have found themselves already bearing the burden of the crown. Prince Steven’s time has not come yet, but each citizen of the United Kingdom can rest assured that he will be well prepared when it does. He is gracious and kind, a true role model for men everywhere.

The festivities for this milestone birthday will take place on the evening of July 4th. There is rumored to be a very large guest list for the special occasion, and His Royal Majesty, King Patrik himself, is set to make a speech in celebration of his eldest son. Official photographs of the party are expected to be released to the press the following day. 

You set your phone down after you finished reading the article aloud to your brother. His face was tinted almost green when you looked at him. It was clear that the words put him ill at ease.

“Don’t like the title of mature, Steve?”

“They might as well be calling me old… Next, they’ll be saying I’m going through a mid-life crisis. It’s preposterous.”

You rolled your eyes. “I hate to say it, but I haven’t the slightest sympathy for you. They’ve been implying I’m ancient since I turned twenty-five. Women become obsolete far faster than men in this high society.”

“That’s sadly accurate. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shrugged him off.

In the next room, one of many large suites that formed Steve and Peggy’s official chambers, the sounds of a group of women fidgeting over one specific dress could be heard. They were fitting Steve’s wife for an outfit for the party. You were supposed to be getting fitted as well, but instead, you preferred to exchanged gripes and sarcastic remarks with your dearest brother. Peggy would have to undergo the torture alone.

“Is Perci going to be able to make it?”

“I haven’t gotten a text or anything from him, but I suspect mum and dad would be quite miffed if he didn’t.”

“Suppose you’re right. Funny that they seemed to have no qualms about his endeavors at grad school, yet they nearly pop a blood vessel every time I sell a few photographs.”

Steve sighed, sounding very annoyed now.

“What?”

He shook his head.

“Well, go on. If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Another sigh. He had that perfect pouty prince look. You raised your camera that you’d taken to carrying with you nearly everywhere and snapped a quick photo before he could object.

“It’s like living with a bloody paparazzi,” he complained.

“I’ll delete it if you tell me what all the sighs are about.”

“Lately… every time I talk to you…” he looked unsure, like he was afraid of a furious reaction from you if he continued.

You tilted your head expectantly.

“You have a way of turning every conversation into a mantra of how miserable you are. And Y/N, I know how hard it is to be a part of this family… I understand, probably more than anyone else… but you’ve got to stop wallowing. It isn’t healthy, and it simply makes everyone else around you miserable as well.”

Your mouth had fallen open in surprise, but you quickly clamped it shut and pulled it into a forced smile. “Thank you for your candor, Steven.” It was the easiest way to take a dig at him, for he knew you only used his full name when required by formality or when you were angry with him.

“Come on, don’t be mad. I just want you to be happy.”

You rose from your winged-back, flower-patterned chair and aimed for the room where Peggy was dressing, leaving Steve without another word.

The large group of servants flocked to you when you stepped through the door, and as you felt the familiar pokes and prods of pins and measuring tapes, your body shook with sadness and your heart clenched with fear. Could Steve be right? Were you in a misery of your own making? If everyone else had the capability of willing their own happiness, why did you seem to be lacking this important gene?

“Father,” you said in greeting as you gave him a small bow. “How was your meeting with the Prime Minister this week?”

He glanced around at the nearest party guests, gauging how much he could actually say depending on who was within earshot. “All you need to know is that Mrs. Pepper Potts is a remarkably wise woman. Perhaps I could arrange a meeting between the two of you. I think you could learn a lot from her.”

Internally, you cringed. Prime Minister Potts seemed to be the daughter King Patrik wished he had. Instead, he got you, and he never managed to conceal his utter disappointment when he looked into your eyes.

Externally, you manage a delighted grin. “That would be splendid, father. Thank you.”

He gave you a nod of agreement and then turned to speak to some other guest.

As you wandered back to the bar, you tried to do some math in your head of how many drinks you could possibly throw back without managing to look visibly plastered in the official party photos. It was then that you noticed a tall man with dark hair that hung down to his shoulders sipping bourbon, standing in a leisurely pose, and looking absolutely bored to death. You approached the bar just next to him and asked the servant for something that tastes strong but doesn’t look it.

You then turned to the man. He was already looking your way, and you couldn’t help noticing the spectacular hues in his irises.

“I’m Y/N. You are?”

One corner of his mouth went up into a little smirk. “James Barnes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

“So you already know who I am?”

“Who doesn’t?”

He had a point. You were about to ask him what sort of title he held to have been invited to such an important event, when the man of the hour himself, looking unbelievable drunk, started waving at the two of you and half-whispering, half-shouting something across the room.

“I’m sorry, is my brother calling you Bucket?”

The man, James, had been taking a sip of his bourbon, and he nearly snorted it through his nose at your remark.

“I believe he’s saying Bucky. That was my nickname during school.”

“I think I preferred Bucket,” you said under your breath right before Steve finally reached the two of you.

“Bucky! It’s been ages! I can’t believe you managed to make it!” He threw an arm around the man’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly.

You took a sip of the concoction the bartender had presented to you before saying, “Brother dearest, you’re making a bit of a fool of yourself, I hope you know.”

He waved away your concerns. “It’s my birthday,” Steve declared with a slur, “I can be a fool if I want to.”

“I suppose you’re right. But it’s your funeral, not mine.” He shrugged, and James looked quite amused by the little interaction.

“Your pal here was just about to tell me how the two of you know each other.”

“Oh that’s a great story,” Steve assured you. “Bucky here was the only one who would stick up for me when the other boys would bully me in boarding school. They all hated me because I was a prince, but not this guy. He’d give every last one of them a punch to the nose and a kick in the arse for my sake. We were thick as thieves until mum and dad pulled me out at fifteen for more focused royal studies.”

You glanced at James to determine how much of this story was actually true. From the bashful looks he was now giving, you decided that all of it was. He’d been your brother’s childhood hero, and now he was being humble about it. It was rather sweet.

“I must extend my gratitude then. My brother was such a scrawny thing when he was younger. He probably wouldn’t have survived without you,” you informed the man with a grin.

“It was no trouble. Steve was the best friend I ever had.”

Steve clapped him a few times on the back as a sign of thanks, and then he was distracted by his beautiful wife passing by. Off he went, and you and James were alone once more.

And all at once, you grew weary of this place. Of this party, of these people, of this cursed home in which you lived out your dreary days. “Fancy a stroll, Sir Bucket?”

He chuckled. “Only if you promise never to call me that again.”

“I’m afraid that’s a promise I can’t make.”

The way he studied you told you that he’d walk with you anyway, and you were quite right. As you marched toward the nearest exit, you felt his presence following you, and a nervous excitement rose in your chest. To be alone, outside, under the glistening moonlight, well it would be a strange occurrence. Romantic instances usually didn’t happen in your life.

You reached your favorite garden, the one you often spent hours in capturing photographs, and James offered you his arm as he walked at your side. You took it easily, appreciating the warmth of his body that eased your chills from the cool summer breeze.

“Why haven’t I met you before?”

“Right after school, I attended university abroad in America. Steve visited me a few times in his travels. When I was done there, I returned to the UK and promptly enlisted in the Army.”

You hadn’t expected that. He seemed a bit different than most rich nobles that knew your family, but you never would have guessed him to be a military man. “What made you decide to do that?”

“A lot of things…. It’s too complicated to really go into right now.”

“So, you’re here on leave then?”

He looked confused for a moment. “Oh, no. I’m no longer in active duty. I did eight years of service and just recently got out.”

“I see… and what do you plan to do now?”

“I haven’t come to a decision on that just yet. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you plan to do from now on?” The question struck you hard, but not in a bad way. It occurred to you that no one had ever posed a question to you in this way in your entire life. As if you had choices of your own. As if you were the mapmaker for the course of your life. As if you were the one holding the pen that jotted down all your plans.

“It’s not proper of me to make plans of my own,” you eventually managed to say.

“Why not?” If it had been anyone else, you would have assumed they were insulting you with such questions. But with James, it was clear that he really didn’t understand. He was curious, concerned. He wanted to know why you didn’t have a say in your own life.

“My mother and father and the people on the royal committee and even the Prime Minister are the ones that make the plans for me. The only thing proper for me to do is nod my head and obey.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said it’s bullshit, and I won’t take it back. If you could do anything with your life, anything at all, tell me, what would it be?”

You knew the answer of course, but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to give in to his hypothetical games.

He abruptly stepped in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to look into those captivating eyes. “You know the answer. I can see it on your face. Tell me, what would you do if you could do anything?”

You closed your eyes as a means to escape the intensity of him. “I’d take photographs. I’d never go anywhere without my camera. I’d spend every hour of the day capturing a moment of beauty and realism. I’d sell them to any sort of magazine I pleased. I’d open my own gallery. I’d make sure everyone in the world could see what I see when I look through that familiar lens.”

“You like photography?” he seemed a little surprised, like he had expected you to say raise a farm of kittens or something.

You nodded your head.

“Then that’s what you should do, Your Highness.”

“It’s not so simple, Sir Bucket.”

But you liked the way he made you feel that it very much could be that simple if you only closed your eyes and willed it to be that way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Let me know what you think :)

Flames in Buckingham

Early yesterday morning, around five AM, firefighters were called to the King’s quaint home to put out a dangerous fire. Bystanders shuffling by on their way to pre-dawn work shifts stopped and stared in awe as billows of smoke rose from the roof of one of the palace’s many wings. Firetrucks were reported to have been on the scene for at least an hour. No members of the royal family were willing to comment on the incident.

We did, however, have an in-depth conversation with two strapping men of uniform who had gotten to see the disaster in the palace firsthand. “I saved the Queen’s life,” one of them said, but it wasn’t a brag, it was more a statement of shock. Imagine going about your ordinary workday and winding up saving the life of one of the most important women in the country. When asked to explain the incident further, the man looked unable to speak, but his fellow firefighter jumped in saying, “My friend here is a true hero. The Queen was very close to the room where the fire began, and he got her out so promptly that she doesn’t even have smoke in her lungs.”

You let out an unladylike laugh. You typically hated the over-exaggerated news stories just as much as the rest of your family, but any article that made your mother sound silly was always a source of entertainment. She was most likely already seething as she wrote a strongly worded letter to the firemen and the website that had published the interview. It was the little things like this that you had to marinate in to feel satisfied in any sort of way.

The flames had been non-existent. One of the newly hired chefs had burned something in the kitchens, causing a heaping amount of smoke, but no damage to the palace itself. It was protocol for firefighters to be called for small things like this only because the place in which you lived was a national relic. No chances could be taken when it came to the important artifacts and architectural commodities that surrounded you through every room in which you walked.

Of course, the firefighters had embellished the situation. It was what any member of the general public did any time they had an interaction with someone from your family. Your mother had had a small coughing fit, and the two men had suggested they take her outside for some fresh air. According to them, it had been a heroic moment.

It was a day off for you, which meant that you weren’t expected to attend any boring social functions and could spend as many hours draped across your plush couch scrolling through Twitter as you wanted. You couldn’t help thinking, as you exited out of the article and resisted the silly urge to retweet it, that although the fire discussed in the news hadn’t existed, there was a very real spark here in the palace. Your long talk with James on the night of Steve’s party had ignited something. No longer could you dance peacefully like the gentle flame of a burning candle. Instead, your sense of injustice and crisis was raging like an inferno.

You wanted to be free. You wanted it more than anything. To love and to burn. To work and to laugh. You wanted to choose. You wanted to live. Nothing you ever did in this palace felt like living.

And just like that, you were up from your post on the couch, dressing in some casual wear, and marching off to Steve and Peggy’s chambers, Natasha on your heels as soon as you exited your lounge room.

“You look like a woman on a mission,” she noted.

“That’s because I am.”

“What sort of mission? Anything I can be of service with?”

“If Steve denies my request, you could torture him until I get the information out of him.”

She knew you were saying it with that sort of dry humor that you loved so much, but she played along anyway. “That sounds serious. What sort of information? And what method of torture do you think would be best?”

“There’s a certain phone number I’m in need of, and if anyone has it, it’s Steve. I’m thinking you could remove a few of his fingernails. He doesn’t really need those to be king.”

“This phone number… does it belong to an individual of the male variety?”

“It might…”

“And this male individual… is he of the handsome sort?”

“Perhaps…”

Natasha finally gave up her serious acting and looked at you with a proud grin. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in months.”

“You must have missed the raging fire that nearly destroyed half the palace, then.”

“Oh, right. I was too busy making eyes at the gorgeous firemen to notice the flames surrounding me.”

“Sounds likely.”

The two of you turned the final corner to find Sam standing in attention at Steve’s main chamber door. “Ladies, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your lovely faces this morning?”

“Save the flattery, Wilson. I need to speak with my brother. Now.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Very.”

“But like, actual royal business urgent? Or one of your usual overdramatic whims?”

Natasha stepped close to the man, giving him a threatening glare. “I’m gonna give you some advice, Sam. Never accuse a woman of being overdramatic.”

Natasha and Sam were friends. They sort of had to be since they spent the majority of their lives together discussing ways to keep you and your idiot brother out of harm’s way. However, Nat seemed to get a splendid thrill out of making Sam sweat, and it was amusing to watch as the man tried to figure out if she was joking or not in her threat.

He eventually turned away from her vicious gaze and knocked curtly against the heavy oak door. “Your Highness, your sister is here to see you. She says it’s urgent.”

“Sam, I thought we discussed no visitors today,” you heard Steve call from somewhere inside.

“My apologies, but it seems she won’t go away until you’ve spoken with her.”

Loud footfalls grew closer to the door, and then the over six-foot-tall dork that was your older brother flung the heavy door open with an irritated look on his face. “What is it?”

“Not even going to invite me in for tea? Where are your manners?”

“It’s funny that everyone in this place seems so concerned about me producing heirs, yet when I actually go about the business of producing heirs, everyone wants to interrupt.”

You glanced at Natasha and the both of you scrunched your noses in disgust. “That’s far more than I ever needed to know, dear brother. I promise we’ll make it quick, if you just give me what I ask for.”

“All right, what is it then?”

“I request the current phone number of a James Barnes.”

He gave you a surveying look, probably trying to figure out when you had met his childhood friend considering he’d been far too wasted at his birthday party to have remembered the encounter.

“Well, I have a phone number for him, but I can’t promise that it’s current. You can give it a shot though.”

He stepped back inside the door to grab his cellphone off a coffee table. “Sending it to you now…. If you don’t mind, I have more important matters to get back to.”

You felt your own phone vibrate in your pocket. “Thanks Steve!” you said as you and Natasha hurried away.

“One question,” Nat announced when you were back in your own chambers, looking down with a smile at the digits Steve had sent you.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you get his number on the night of the party?”

“Because it isn’t proper for a princess to go about asking for men’s phone numbers.”

“But it’s proper to get his number from his friend and text him unprompted?”

“No… but I’ve thought a lot in the week since the party about all the things he said to me that night. He’s made me realize that I no longer have any care for what’s proper of a princess to do.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” she said, and her tone was genuine.

“You’ll be the only one in this palace to think so, I’m afraid.”

You waited until dinnertime, when you were alone on your couch eating beef wellington in front of the blue light of a large TV playing some ridiculous reality show, and then you sent him a text.

You: Sir Bucket?

Him: I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong number.

You felt a sudden letdown. It seemed it would be much more difficult to contact the man than you had expected.

Him: Only James or Bucky at this number

You couldn’t help the girlish squeal that you let out to the emptiness of your lounge room.

You: My mistake. I was hoping to get in touch with a rather dashing gentleman under the title of Sir Bucket. Any bloke named James or Bucky sounds quite lackluster in comparison.

Him: Perhaps we could arrange a date in order for me to prove how very impressive a bloke named James can be.

You: I might be willing to consider it.

Him: On what condition?

You: Hmm… that’s a good question.

You: The palace greenery is getting a little boring for photos. Perhaps I need a new subject to capture.

Him: You want to take photos of me?

Your face heated with embarrassment. Had you really proposed such a thing?

You: In a completely professional, non-creepy way, yes.

Him: Nothing wrong with being unprofessional around me, Your Highness.

Him: I’d be happy to pose for your photos.

You: So, where would this date take place?

Him: I could cook you dinner at my house, and then we could do the photos here?

And there was that inferno again. It was a burning for him, but also a burning because of him. You were alight in so many ways, and the old you might have felt a ball of nerves in your stomach at the thought of going to his house for dinner, but the new you only felt a pleasant heat in your chest at the mere idea of it.

You wanted nothing more than to be improper with this man.

Hours later, still on that couch, still watching reality TV, you giddily typed out text after text to James. This was the happiest you’d been in ages. Natasha knocked on your door, and you promptly called for her to enter.

“I have your schedule for the week, Your Highness.”

“Anything interesting, or is it the usual?”

“I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.”

“Like what?”

“Your father has insisted on double the public appearances, including a five-hour interview and photo session.”

“Ugh, why on earth would he do that?”

“Both of your parents have practically given up hope that Steve and Peggy will produce a child. They’re convinced that you will be queen one day, and they want to make sure that the public adores you as much as they adore Steve…. There’s more.”

“What else could they possibly come up with to make my life more miserable than it already is?”

“Your mother doesn’t think you’ve maintained a proper princess etiquette since your days in homeschooling. She’s scheduled for a two-hour course in royal behavior each day from now until further notice.”

Irritation. That was the emotion that your family typically produced in you. With Steve, it was usually more of an annoyed endearment because you got along with him the easiest. But never had you felt quite so enraged at them all as you did now.

You were slowly coming to a realization in your head. Sitting pretty and silent would suffice no longer. It was a time for action. A time for honesty. A time for demands. You refused to live your life on their terms.

Now if only you had the slightest idea of how to escape this dreaded situation.


	4. Chapter 4

The Duchess of Wales barren?

Prince Steven and his wife have been married for three years now, but still no announcement of pregnancy from the royal couple. The entire country waits in anticipation for the news of a bundle of joy to coo over, but as time passes, it seems less and less likely the news will ever come. There have been no rumors of a fertility doctor getting involved, but the palace could be keeping such a thing quiet.

At his latest public appearance, we questioned Prince Steven on the matter, but he refused to comment and gave our reporter a scathing look. It seems that he’s just as bothered by the lack of pregnancy as everyone else.

To make things more interesting, we have to wonder if Princess Y/N is delighted by the fact that the couple has not conceived. She’s one step closer to the crown, and if Prince Steven never produces an heir, then she will surely be crowned as monarch someday.

Your stomach twisted up in sickening knots as your eyes flicked back and forth over the article. You were climbing out of your bed and beelining for Peggy’s chambers without even putting on something other than a bathrobe. It was horrible. Terrible. Disgusting. The things the bloody British tabloids would say about some of the best people in your family made you nauseous. 

And Peggy. Poor Peggy. First, she has to deal with all this pressure from mum and dad. Now, she’s facing the entire public questioning the capabilities of her womb.

You wanted to do something, anything to help her. You wanted to arrange an interview and tear those journalists to shreds.

Maybe you would… now that you no longer cared about what was proper.

You barged through the main door to their quarters, ignoring Sam’s protests, and you found a weeping and distraught Peggy sitting on the bed with her face in her palms. Steve was holding her close, trying to console her to the best of his abilities.

You went to her other side without question and wrapped your arms around her.

“I’m so sorry they said such vile things, Peg,” you said softly into her hair.

“I just…. want the torment to end for a while, you know?”

You nodded your head because you did know. You knew all about torment. It came from everyone on the outside, and almost everyone on the inside. And Peggy was right that it never seemed to end. For the first time since you were a teenager, fantasies of running away and getting lost in the crowds filled your mind. It had never been a logical solution to your problems, no matter where you went, your family would find you, but it was a nice daydream to think about in times like this.

“Maybe we all need a break. A little vacation, yeah?”

“Like Scotland?” Steve suggested, unsure of where you were going with this.

“Far too close to this bloody palace. I need to get off this damn island,” you told your brother, “and I think your wife needs that too.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“The private residence in Australia would be nice. Nobody in the family has stayed there in fifteen years.”

“That’s a tough sell to mum and dad.”

“And you’re the most persuasive person I’ve ever met, Steve. Tell them what you need to in order for them to say yes. Tell them it’s pertinent to Peggy’s being able to conceive. Just make something up. But insist that all three of us need to go, and it needs to be soon, and for at least two weeks. None of that two-day vacation bullshit.”

“Right,” he accepted his instructions from you with a nod. Then, he turned back to his wife, no longer audibly crying, but silent tears were still streaming down her face. “How’s that sound, my love?”

“That sounds nice, Steve,” she whispered.

He kissed her gently on her left temple, and you smiled at the pair of them. They had that kind of treasured love that you only hoped you could find with someone one day.

“Your Highness, so nice to see you again. Please, come in.”

You suppressed your little grin as you stepped through the front door of James’ house. It wasn’t a palace by any means, but it was rather elegant. You inferred that his family must come from money if he attended the same boarding school as Steve.

He showed you to the dining room where a feast was already waiting. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Sir Bucket. I might be a princess, but I promise you that I’m not high maintenance.”

“First of all, I thought we agreed to stop using that name.”

“I never made such an agreement.”

He rolled his eyes. His captivating blue eyes with the swirls of grey in them. “Second of all, I wanted to do all this, not because I think you’re high maintenance, but because I really enjoy cooking, and I didn’t get to do enough of it in the army.”

“Well, it smells delightful,” you told him with a genuine smile. “Shall we?”

He pulled your chair out for you, and this act, well it might have seemed so simple to anyone else, but to you, it was highly significant. You got the sense that when he did it, it wasn’t because you were a princess, or because he had been taught from a young age to always treat a lady this way; it seemed that he did it out of kindness, out of care, and maybe a tiny bit that he wanted to make you feel special and impressed. James Barnes was trying to woo you with some suave moves, and you had no qualms about falling for it.

“Might you tell me about deciding to enlist in the army? You said it was a long and complicated story, but we have all of dinner and the remainder of the evening to get into it.” You knew it was a bit bold to ask this, but you felt that his choice to enlist must be an integral part of his character. It was the key to cracking James Barnes, to figuring out exactly who he was. If you were to go any further, you had to know why he chose that path.

He took a long sip of the white wine he had served with dinner. “To be honest, the first reason was my complete lack of a desire to marry.”

You hadn’t been expecting this. You nearly choked on the spinach dip you were currently tasting.

“I knew if I returned to my parents’ home after graduation, they’d be on me like piranhas, parading beautiful, wealthy women in front of me at every event and insisting that I do the proper thing and settle down. It seemed, at the time, the only way to prevent them from ordering me around was to give someone else the place to order me around instead. I would have rather listened to my commanding officer’s instructions than those of my father any day.”

You cleared your throat. “You said it was complicated. That doesn’t sound so complicated.”

“Well, there was also the fact that after university, I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I just knew that I didn’t want to sit around in fancy clothes being lazy and snobby like all my family before me. Being in the military seemed to be quite a humbling experience, so I went for it.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t necessarily call you humble, Bucket.”

Instead of looking annoyed at the nickname this time, he let out a deep laugh, and your suspicions that he liked you calling him that were confirmed. “Perhaps, not. But I reckon I’m a lot less arrogant than I would have been without the army. Then there was the fact that Steve wanted to join so badly, but he wasn’t allowed to.”

This was complete news to you. You had thought you knew everything there was to know about your brother. Never had you imagined that he had aspirations for the life of a soldier. Of course, he wouldn’t be permitted to pursue such an endeavor as the next in line to the throne. He’d accepted his bleak future without complaints. Was it admirable of him to give into duty so silently? Or was it the act of a coward and a puppet?

“I didn’t know that…. about Steve. He never said anything to me about wanting to enlist.”

“I don’t think he told anyone other than me, except maybe Peggy…. But it was a common topic of discussion between us when he would visit me in the states during my studies. That’s part of the reason he loves the US so much. They’re a very military-celebratory country. Anyway, part of me felt like I had to do it because he couldn’t. I had nothing better to do with my life, no obligations to wear a heavy crown on my head, so I enlisted in his place.”

“And did you harbor any regrets? Would you do it over again?”

Another sip of white wine. Your questions might have been getting too intense for him. “There are some… unpleasant memories. But overall, I don’t regret my time in the army, no.”

He looked pensive. Somber even. You hated to see anybody in a sad state, but you couldn’t deny how stunning he looked in a forlorn demeanor. You’d sat your camera down on the table next to your plate at the beginning of dinner, but now, you grabbed it quickly and snapped a photo.

He started at the flash. “I didn’t realize the photo shoot had already begun.”

You felt a little ashamed for taking advantage of a serious moment, but you knew the photo you had captured would turn out spectacular. “I’m sorry. I just really wanted to get one of you with that look on your face.”

A small smile grew across his lips. He wasn’t angry about it, and you were relieved. “Should we head to the living room for more?” he suggested.

You happily stood up and followed him.

When you were both standing in front of his royal blue, velvet couch, he rubbed his hands together and said, “All right, Your Highness, how do you want me?”

You let out a snort. “Please call me Y/N. And let’s try a few of you leaning against that bookcase over there.”

He walked to where you had pointed and rested his left elbow against the spines of some dusty-looking books. “We both know what will have to happen for me to stop calling you ‘Your Highness.”

“Do we?” You punctuated your question with the flash of the camera.

“As long as you’re calling me Sir Bucket, I refuse to use your actual name.” The click of a shutter. The blinding light of another flash.

“But what if I mean ‘Sir Bucket’ in a very affectionate, non-teasing way?” Click.

“And what if I mean ‘Your Highness’ in the same?” Flash.

“Then that settles it. We shall go on for the rest of our acquaintanceship never using each other’s first names.”

“You know, if I recall correctly, this date you agreed to was supposed to be with a man named James. I think there was something about showing you how impressive a James could be.”

You lowered your camera and looked away, trying to hide the flustered look on your face. “You can move to the couch now, James.”

But he was smirking at you, and you suspected that that smirk could only mean trouble. He didn’t go to the couch. Instead, he approached you. Stopped barely two inches away, and slowly pulled the camera out of your grasp. He turned the lens around on you, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

The impressive James Barnes needed no words to answer this question, however. He swooped in for a sparkling kiss, and as your mouths were pressed together, he snapped a photo. You weren’t sure if the flash you saw behind your eyelids was from the camera or from the lightheadedness his practiced lips were causing you.

“I bet that’ll be the best one of the shoot,” he told you cockily as he pulled away.

“Definitely not humble,” you muttered.

You wanted more. Much more than just a flash of a kiss. It wasn’t the improperness of such an act that held you back. It was your desire not to ruin something so special. To go so far with James now would surely spell disaster for your future with him. You suggested he walk you to the palace car that had been waiting patiently outside all evening.

When you climbed inside, he leaned down to kiss you once more, this time far more chastely. “Have you ever been to Australia, Sir Bucket?” you asked before he closed the door.

“I haven’t, but I’ve always wanted to go,” he told you.

“That’s good to know,” you said coyly. “I’ll be in touch.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I… started crying while writing this chapter? Lol I very rarely ever do that, but idk there are a lot of intense feelings going on toward the end, so brace yourselves. Also, there is a tiny chance that I might make this story eight chapters instead of seven, but I won’t know for sure until I start working on chapter six. Let me know what you think :)

Mysteriously Absent

All of Prince Steven’s and Princess Y/N’s appearances for the next two weeks have been canceled or rescheduled. The country waits with bated breath to see what sort of situation could possibly be causing them to go silent for such a long period of time. Everyone’s hopes are that it might be an announcement of Peggy Carter’s pregnancy that will come at the end of these two weeks of mystery…

You huffed and locked your phone before throwing it down in the empty seat next to you, not even bothering to finish the article. It was sure to be another grueling tirade about Peggy’s empty womb, and you simply couldn’t stomach it today. Plus, the three of you had made an agreement to steer clear of news articles while in Australia. You weren’t technically on vacation yet, but now was as good of a time as any to say good riddance to Twitter’s trending page.

You glanced out the plane’s window as a sleek black palace car pulled up and James Barnes stepped out onto the tarmac. He’d been picked up early this morning at your request, and you couldn’t help the fit of laughter that erupted from you when you saw what clothes he was sporting.

Once he had boarded, you stood from your seat with a sparkle in your eye. “James, what on earth are you wearing?” He looked like Crocodile Dundee. It might have been the best sight you had ever experienced in your life.

“Oh, it’s James today, is it?”

“Sir Bucket would never show up for a royal vacation wearing something so ridiculous.” But you couldn’t hide your smile because, really, this was priceless. You grabbed your camera, always handy, and snapped some shots of him shooting you annoyed looks.

“We are going to Australia, aren’t we? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah, we’re going to lounge around in a mansion on a beach, possibly go out on a sailboat. At no point will we be wrestling crocodiles.”

He huffed. “I packed other sorts of clothes too,” you heard him mutter as he placed some bags in the overhead. “Where’s Steve and Peggy?” he asked once he was done. You had to shake your head out of the stupor it had been in while admiring his ridiculously muscular arms. The past few times you’d seen him, he’d been in a suit that hadn’t revealed much in the wonders of his buff-ness.

“Er…. they took a separate car. Should be here any minute.”

“Is Steve happy that I’m coming along with you lot?”

You turned away, trying to avoid his eyes.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I uh… haven’t told Steve that you’re coming with us. He doesn’t know you’ll be here.”

“…. so, you haven’t told him about anything, then? Not that we’ve sort of been seeing each other?”

You shook your head in objection, instantly knowing where he was going with this. He thought you were ashamed to be spending time with him. “James, it’s not like that. I’m sure Steve has inferred what’s going on because he’s the one that gave me your number. The only reason I didn’t tell him I was inviting you was that Steve was the one to arrange everything with our parents and I knew that if they found out, the entire vacation might be canceled.”

“Why’s that? I’m from a well-off family who’s good friends with many members of yours. Your parents wouldn’t approve of us together?”

You nervously picked at the edge of your thumbnail. “I don’t think so, no. You’ve spent too much time in America. You’ve been in the army for so many years. You say whatever you bloody want whenever you bloody want. And I think all of those things are wonderful, James, but I know for a fact that my parents will think the exact opposite.”

He stepped toward you and pulled you in tight against his kaki-covered chest. “Fuck ‘em, yeah?” he mumbled into the top of your head, followed by a soft kiss.

“Yeah,” you agreed. But just like with all other rebellious feelings you’d been having lately, it was much easier thought and said than done. In theory, you’d love to do nothing more than reject all your parents’ expectations, but in practice, you felt as feeble as a barely-kindled spark against a strong gust of wind.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” That was Steve’s deep voice coming from the entrance of the plane.

You stepped out of the man’s arms and faced your brother, hoping he wouldn’t be disapproving of what was going on here. “I invited him,” you said with your chin turned up high, daring your brother to challenge you.

Instead, Steve smiled, that winning princely smile that the entire nation adored. “What a great idea, Y/N! It’s so good to see you again, mate. It feels like ages since we’ve gotten to properly hang out.”

James chuckled. “I’m glad to be here, as well.” He wrapped his right arm back around you and gave you a fond little squeeze.

A very long flight later, one filled with mimosas and ridiculous stories shared between Steve and James, and you were stepping into the very large residence overlooking a secluded section on one of Australia’s many beaches.

“Well this is extravagant,” James said as he tossed a few of his bags down. You’d told him the servants could carry them in for him, but he insisted on doing it himself.

“Were you expecting a shack?”

“No, but I wasn’t expecting to stay in a place so huge that we wouldn’t even have to see each other for two weeks if we didn’t want to.”

“Ah, well it was my request, really. I was afraid I might get tired of staring at your ugly mug.”

“Doubtful. You stare at me so often, I’m considering getting a restraining order. Don’t even get me started on the obsessive photos you take of me night and day.” He said it with a faked whiny voice.

You giggled. “Just don’t let me catch you coming out of the shower. I don’t think I could resist snapping a shot of that.”

“Perhaps I could imprint the sight on your memory in some other way?” he suggested.

A throat cleared. “Look, I’m happy for you both, honest. And I don’t mind you being here, but can we not do this,” Steve gestured between you and James, “when I’m present?”

James wore a guilty grin, and he clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll try to be more respectful around His Royal Highness.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I was thinking we could go into town for dinner tonight,” Peggy suggested as she joined the three of you in the large living area.

“What are you in the mood for? I’ll have Victoria make reservations,” you said. Victoria was what you dubbed an “organizer.” That’s all she did, at all hours of the day, went about organizing things. You often loathed her presence because you enjoyed your life more when it wasn’t being micromanaged, but your parents had insisted she come along on this trip. As well as Victoria, numerous palace servants had made the trip because it would just be such a travesty for a prince and princess to have to wait on themselves for once. And then, there were Natasha, Sam, and Wanda who went with you, Steve, and Peggy everywhere because there were quite a large number of people in this world who would like to see many members of the royal family dead.

“I’m not sure. Just have her arrange something for us with high reviews. She’s good at that.”

You nodded your head in agreement. Victoria definitely seemed to love her job more when you royals couldn’t make up your mind about something and she had the pleasure of choosing for you.

“I’ll just be off to a shower then, before we head into town.” James said it so casually, but when you caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes, you knew he’d meant it to tease you. And teased you were, for the entire time that you looked through your choices of outfits for dinner, you couldn’t stop thinking about Sir Bucket with beads of water running down those thick arms and what was sure to be a just as perfectly sculpted chest, legs, and butt.

Three days later, the teasing hadn’t let up. You’d made the mistake of letting James know you found him impossibly attractive, and he’d been using it against you every chance he got. The way he looked in swim trunks, running around on the beach with your idiot brother. The way he looked in the mornings, coming down from his room for breakfast in only sweatpants and no shirt. As a matter of fact, you’d rarely seen him in a shirt since arriving at this bloody house. It was maddening.

And he was so playful. Splashing you in the water. Destroying your sandcastles. Writing suggestive things to you in the sand before watching them wash away with a smirk on his face. Purchasing purposefully ugly knickknacks for you and telling you that you had to keep them now because they were a heartfelt gift from him. Assuring you that he was on a constant lookout for crocodiles and that you would be in safe hands if one were to attack. Watching flicks in one of the lounge rooms with you late at night, pulling you close for a snuggle and distracting you with thorough snogging sessions.

Silly Sir Bucket and his stupid sexy schemes.

He was winning. Wheedling down your sense of self-control and inflating your infatuation with him.

“What are you up to, gorgeous?” his voice came from behind your chair on the balcony. You’d been getting some reading done and occasionally capturing photos of the surf down below.

“Just relaxing. You know… as one does on a vacation.”

“You’re such a smartass.”

“You love it,” you told him confidently without even bothering to raise your eyes from the page of your book.

“Yeah…” You looked up this time. The wistfulness in his voice made it impossible not to.

“What are your plans for the day, Sir Bucket?”

“I believe I was told there would be a sailboat ride at some point. Maybe that?”

“And would you require a companion for this sailboat ride?”

“I would.”

“I’ll have Victoria arrange it.”

He leaned over your lounge chair and pushed the book away from your face. “It’s a date,” he said huskily, and you willed yourself not to swoon like a pathetic princess.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“Perhaps a kiss?”

You wove your arms around the back of his neck and pulled him down the rest of the way to you. Inviting him on this vacation had been both the best and worst idea you’d ever had. Every moment with him was bliss, but how would you ever be able to focus on anything else back in England when you had these delicious moments filling your brain?

Photography did not need grandeur to be good. A skilled photographer could capture spectacular stills in the simplest of landscapes. But being perched atop smooth waves in a pristine sailboat was like food for your soul and magic for the camera in your hands. It was effortless, snapping shots of the sea surrounding you; which was fortunate because you could hardly put any real focus into your photos when James insisted on having his hands and lips on you nearly at all times.

You finally gave up and sat the camera down on the soft blanket spread out beneath you. He leaned over and let his head fall into your lap. Your fingers immediately went to the long, dark, locks of hair that he’d been growing out since he left the army. Long hair, that was just another thing your parents surely wouldn’t approve of.

“What are you going to do when you get back to Buckingham?” he asked you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is this going to disappear? You going to go back to being prim and proper Princess Y/N?”

“I don’t know, James. I certainly don’t want to do that, but I’m at a complete loss of other options.”

Silence. Well, not silence, but the therapeutic crushing of the waves against the boat as nothing was said between the two of you for a long moment.

“You could quit.”

“Quit what?”

“Being royal.”

And suddenly, it was as if you were at the bottom of this ocean rather than the surface of it. To suggest such a thing, to even think it, was insanity. Something of the sort hadn’t been done for two hundred years. You could hardly breathe as your mind provided images of saltwater filling your nostrils and mouth.

“You mean abdicate?” you whispered with horror clear in your voice.

“You wouldn’t actually have to abdicate, would you? I mean, you can’t even do that until you’re actually queen. But you could announce your intent to abdicate and refuse to take part in palace pleasantries and parades any longer.”

You glanced around. Natasha was there, obviously listening, but you trusted her. The other two servants at the opposite end of the boat, not so much. You hoped they were out of earshot.

“James. That’s an incredibly extreme course of action.” Your fingers were no longer soothingly weaving through his hair. Instead, they lay frozen at his scalp. Shocked still.

“You can’t honestly tell me that if Steve didn’t have a child and it came down to it, you wouldn’t abdicate anyway and force the crown onto your brother Percival.”

“But that’s different because it would likely never even have to happen!” you were still whispering, but it was more in that panicked, shouting sort of way.

“And if it’s never going to happen, if you’re never going to be queen, why the hell should you spend your entire life walking on eggshells and training for a role you’ll never take on? Tell them you have no intention of ever being queen, and there will no longer be a reason for them to control your life.”

Your throat felt like it was closing, raw from the saltwater that wasn’t actually there. “Can we just— Can we drop this for now? We’re supposed to be enjoying our vacation.” You couldn’t hide the tearful tone in your voice. This line of discussion was highly upsetting for you. The confliction was that you could clearly see exactly what James meant and where he was coming from, you understood it so clearly, but to hear such a suggestion spoken brought on a wave of reality, and you were surely drowning.

His head was still in your lap, so of course, he felt the hot drops falling from your face. He sat up quickly and pulled you into his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I want to. I want to do it so badly. But I’m so weak, James. I don’t know if I can.”

“First of all, you’re the furthest thing from weak. Second of all, you can do anything you fucking want. You’re a princess.”

And you felt it, the acceptance and agreement of his words clicking into place deep inside you. You felt that fire again, the way he made you burn for freedom and something more than a perfect palace life. You knew what you must do if you were ever to be truly happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make this series into eight chapters instead of seven :)

Peace.

That was the only feeling lingering on your skin and swirling through your mind when your eyes fluttered open this morning. There was no infuriating news article to be read. No requests from your parents. No royal etiquette lessons. Most importantly, there was no cowardice, no fear, no dread.

Your resolution last night on that sailboat had, at first, seemed so painful, but now you realized the healing effect it had had over you. You had a plan of action upon your return to the palace. You had a determination to only take yes for an answer from now on. Best yet, you still had a week and a half left of vacation, and you finally felt enough at ease to thoroughly enjoy it.

You hadn’t said a word to James last night about your internal decision to take his advice and threaten to abdicate. He had comforted you as you cried, held you close and whispered words of encouragement and care. When the boat had docked, you walked hand-in-hand down the pier and back to the mansion, but not another word was spoken between you. Finally, you bid him a quick goodnight kiss before heading off to bed.

You had needed to be alone in the quiet of your thoughts. You had needed time to let it all sink in. And sink in it had, as if your body had been working overtime during the night to make sure that you woke up feeling twenty pounds lighter.

Now, all you wanted to do was kiss that gorgeous face of James’ and tell him how brilliantly right he had been. You dragged yourself out from under the duvet and pulled a silk robe over your skimpy pajamas that you had packed just for this very reason. The room he was staying in was only two doors down the hall, thankfully nowhere near your brother’s and Peggy’s room. You turned the knob ever so gently, crossed your fingers that the door wouldn’t creak, and slowly pushed it open.

All the teasing in the world over these past few days couldn’t prepare you for how instantly turned on you were by the sight in front of you. James lay on his back, sound asleep, arms reaching up under his pillow. A left leg stretched wide across the expanse of the bed, completely uncovered and displaying defined expanses of glorious thigh muscles. No duvet. Only the thinnest of sheets draped precariously over his cock and his right leg, as if it had been placed that way purposefully for some sort of debaucherous photo shoot. Too bad you didn’t have your camera this time.

You crept to the edge of the bed at his left side. As smoothly as possible, you slid onto the pillowy mattress next to him and carefully wound an arm around his torso. Still, he did not stir. You leaned in close and placed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his lips, and you watched happily as his eyelashes raised and sleepy eyes focused on you.

“Your Highness, to what do I owe this pleasure of waking up to such a gorgeous face?” That voice. God, it sent chills down your spine. It was always so much deeper, so much gruffer in the early morning moments. You typically had to wait until breakfast to hear it, but not today.

“I wanted to give you some good news first thing this morning, Sir Bucket.”

“Is the good news that I’m naked in my bed with the most beautiful woman in the world lying next to me?”

“Nope, it’s even better than that.”

“I’m not sure it could get better than that.”

“I’m taking your advice. When we get back, I’m telling my parents that I refuse to ever be queen and that if it comes to it, I will abdicate from the throne.”

His sleepy eyes suddenly turned wide-awake. He rolled to his side so that your lips were only a breath apart. “That’s incredible, Y/N. I’ll be there to support you every step of the away.”

“I know,” you said tenderly. “I don’t think I could do it if you weren’t.”

He smiled at you so lovingly, and even though you hadn’t gone there yet, hadn’t made any declarations of infinite commitment, even though in reality you hadn’t known each other all that long, you felt that James’ loyalty would never sway. In for a penny, in for a pound.

You glanced down the expanse of your bodies, skin so close to touching. “Uh, oh. I believe you’ve lost your sheet,” you informed him with a smirk.

“Damn. Whatever shall I do?”

“Whatever shall you do, indeed,” you parroted back before locking your lips to his and trailing a hand down to the newly exposed part of his body.

***

“Hope nobody had plans for today because I’ve had Victoria schedule something for all of us,” you announced the next day when you made it down to breakfast and found Steve and Peggy already there at the large Beachwood table. You hadn’t seen the two of them at all yesterday, mostly because you’d spent nearly all day in James’ bed. But today, you were antsy to get out of this house and do something a little different. None of you had ventured into town since going to dinner that first night here. 

“We were just going to lounge at the pool, but we’re open to these plans of yours, darling,” Peggy told you as she spread some raspberry jam across a couple of slices of toast.

“Great,” you said with a smile.

“Are you going to tell us what the plans are?” Steve asked.

“I’ll wait until James makes it down here. Should be any minute now.”

Sure enough, he came bounding down the stairs, sporting crisp khaki shorts and a short-sleeve button-down that wasn’t buttoned at all. You forced your eyes to focus on the bowl of oats in front of you rather than the pecs on display that you had spent many an hour the day before appreciating with your tongue.

“Morning,” he directed at Steve and Peggy as he pulled out the seat right next to you and plopped down.

“Morning, Buck. Do you have any idea what these plans of Y/N’s are?”

James’ eyebrows quirked in confusion. “Plans? I can’t say that I do.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, one of the best zoos in Australia is only an hour’s drive from here. Victoria has had them close it down for the day so we can have a private tour.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Peggy declared.

“That’s your big plans, a zoo?” Steve looked unimpressed.

“I haven’t even told you the best part, Steven.”

“Oh?”

“I’m gonna get some wonderful photos of Sir Bucket here wrestling a crocodile.”

James choked on the blueberry muffin he’d been shoving into his mouth.

***

“I thought you were joking about that bit,” James said as the four of you stood in front of the empty arena where the trainers did educational reptile shows.

“You thought wrong. I’ve already asked about it, and they said it would be okay for you to go in with a trainer and for them to show you a few tricks.”

“You’re mad.”

“You’re scared?”

Steve clapped his hand on James’ shoulder. “Come on, Bucky. I’ll do it with you.”

“Is that really such a wise idea, Steve?” Peggy asked tepidly. “I don’t think your mum and dad would be too happy if their heir was eaten by a crocodile.”

“Which is why I won’t get eaten and they won’t ever have to know about this.”

The trainer opened the gate, motioning for the two men to walk through. James gave you a quick peck to your forehead and then a silly little bow before taking off toward the artificial pond where another trainer and a large crocodile were waiting patiently.

You quickly raised your camera and focused the lens, not wanting to miss a second of the day’s biggest event.

The two friends turned out to really enjoy the experience, and you got tons of photos of Steve and James listening intently to the trainer’s instructions, giving suspicious glances to the animal, and then smiling and laughing once they grew more comfortable with the situation. It was a show you’d likely never forget, and Peggy chatted happily beside you, still in a bit of shock that Steve had volunteered to take part in this so easily.

***

After that, your vacation days went back to less exciting but just as enjoyable things. You rotated between lounging on the balcony with a book, lounging in the sand in a bathing suit, lounging in your jacuzzi-sized bathtub under bubbly foam right next to James, or lounging in either of your beds as he ravished you.

Not a word had been said to your brother and his wife about your intentions to cause such a ruckus when you returned to Buckingham. You knew that if Steve had advanced warning, he’d be trying to talk you out of it every single day while you were here. And really, there was nothing anyone could say to change your mind on the matter now. So, you kept quiet and asked James to do the same. Steve would be finding out about the matter at the exact same moment as your mother and father.

Now, James leaned over you, fingers twirling through your hair as you lay face down on your bed, naked back and bum on display for him to touch if he so chose. But it wasn’t all sex all the time. In fact, the man seemed to delight in the bliss of being naked with you even for these non-explicit moments. He wanted to wake up next to you like this and have the permission to kiss you lazily across your shoulder blades or trail a tickling finger up your ribcage. He wanted to tell you how wonderful and sexy you looked so often that it made your head spin, and possibly inflate a little bit. You gave him these things eagerly because you wanted them too. Only bothering to cover yourself when the two of you had to make an appearance for mealtimes every once in a while.

“We should go snorkeling,” he mumbled next to your ear.

“Today?” you said as you finally lifted your head enough to not have your face buried in a pillow.

“Well, we leave the day after tomorrow, don’t we? Doesn’t lend much time to put it off for another day.”

You groaned because you’d been purposefully trying to forget how fast the end of your vacation was approaching. “Why’d you have to remind me?” you complained as you playfully reached out and pinched his hip.

“Ouch,” he yelped, but you knew it didn’t really hurt. “What do you say, Your Highness? Snorkeling?”

“Fine, yes. We can go snorkeling…. but it’ll cost you.” You couldn’t help the coy smile that rose on one side of your lips.

“What’s the price?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, my love,” you said as you finally rolled onto your back and positioned your breasts right in front of his face.

***

The tide was low. The water, a sparkling azure. And so clear. Your head was submerged, making all sounds lower to dull tone. The slow breaths going through your snorkel were the primary source of your distraction. Each one loud, letting you know it was there, letting you know that you were still alive. And James, swimming ahead of you and slightly below. Flippers snapping back and forth, mere inches from your face. He looked back at you, raised a single finger, directing you where to gaze. A vibrant fish snuggled into a reef. You raised your waterproof camera, but it wasn’t the fish that you captured. Instead, you seemed unable to take photos of anything other than James these days. You had to commit it all to eternity. Document it into permanence. You couldn’t forget the way he looked as he ate, as he jogged along the beach, as he played with a crocodile, as he slept naked, as he swam under the currents wearing goofy-looking goggles and an adventurous look on his face.

Maybe. If you captured him enough times on an actual camera, your memory would become photographic in and of itself. Then, you could rest easy in the thought that you would never forget the crooked curve of his lips, or the steel-blue color of his crinkly eyes, or the dark tufts of hair that led down his abdomen to his pants line.

You didn’t care about keeping the sights of Australia at your disposal to look back on forever, you only cared about keeping this. This beautiful thing that had flourished with James.

You’d stopped without realizing it, and James turned around, swimming back toward you. Instead of questioning your moment of immobility, he approached you and made a hilarious effort to kiss you despite you both having snorkels on.

You’d lost count of how much time the two of you had actually known each other, lost count of the hours that had been spent in the other’s presence. And maybe it was a good thing that you weren’t counting because love wasn’t something you counted down the days to. So, while you were losing track of time, love had found you.


	7. Chapter 7

_To all of the United Kingdom, my beloved country:_

_You deserve a ruling monarch who revels in the job, who feels comfortable in the role, who can focus on nothing short of making sure that our nation remains a glorious state. It comes with great sadness that I must admit I can give you none of these things. Despite the best efforts of my mother and father, I have never felt well equipped to be queen one day; therefore, I believe it is in everyone’s best interests, mine included, that I fully disclose my intent to abdicate the throne if such responsibility shall ever befall upon my shoulders. It was never the job for me, but always the well-suited role of my older brother’s. I have immense faith in Prince Steven passing the crown to a child of his own someday, but if that should never be the case, then I know in my heart that Prince Percival would be more apt for the position than myself. This announcement comes with no malice toward my countrymen and countrywomen nor toward my family; in fact, it comes with nothing but love._

_Warm regards,_

_Princess Y/N_

##  *******

A single tear slid down your cheek and into the corner of your quivering lip. Putting these words to paper had been utterly therapeutic but still a bit depressing in a way. To have let down every single person in the country, that was an impressive feat, but you had surely done it come Monday morning when this letter was delivered to all the top news offices. For now, you folded it carefully into an envelope and locked it away in the secret drawer of your desk.

“Twenty minutes until the scheduled dinner, Y/N,” Natasha informed you from her post, standing just inside your closed office door.

You turned to her, giving her the fondest look. In the worst-case scenario, you would be cut off from all royal amenities and disowned from the family. If that were to happen, you didn’t think Natasha would be able to continue protecting you any longer. The palace handed out her paychecks after all. She was one of the many prices you would be paying for such a rebellious stance. Then again, to be able to spend time with Natasha as just a friend rather than a delicate thing that she must always protect, well, that sounded rather nice. 

“Do you have any wagers for how this will go, Nat?”

“I have a guess, but I don’t think you’ll want to hear it. It’ll only make you more nervous.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve already sweat more today than a princess should ever sweat in her entire life.”

“How lovely,” she remarked with sarcasm.

“Lovely indeed,” you agreed as you stood from your desk chair and crossed to your bedroom. You quickly found your best set of pearls at your vanity and clasped them around your neck.

“How do I look?”

“I think you look classier than anyone ever has while quitting a job.”

Another tear fell just then, tracing the same path as the first. You turned and pulled her into your arms, suddenly in desperate need of a hug from a friend.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “If you doubt yourself, just remember what James told you on the sailboat.”

You smirked. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“It’s kind of my job to listen in to all your conversations.”

“No, not really. You’re just nosy.”

“Perhaps I had dreams of being a spy in another life.”

“You would have made a good one.”

##  *******

Your back was straight as a board, and you silently found it funny that the only time you’d ever been so careful about royal etiquette was the very dinner in which you intended to denounce yourself as a royal. At the head of the table, your father munched silently on some asparagus dish. Steve was at his right, and Peggy next to him. You had the pleasure of being seated next to Perci, who had come all this way from graduate school just to eat in silence and stew in the deep loathing that stretched out across this family. He was at your father’s left side, and that left your mother at the opposite end of the table from her husband.

You glanced up at Peggy from your bowl of cold soup. What a disgusting appetizer that rich people decided was “refreshing.” Your sister-in-law gave you that sympathetic smile, the one that said she was just as miserable to be here as you were. But not even she could know how dangerous this night was about to become. If only you could find a moment, an opening amongst all the silverware clanking against plates, to clear your throat and announce that you had an announcement.

“Well,” your father said in that arrogant tone, “how was the vacation?”

“I bit too long, in my opinion,” your mother chimed in before you, Steve, or Peggy could answer. “I’m surprised the three of you still remember how to eat at the dinner table like civilized people rather than lounging around on a sofa somewhere eating junk.”

“Mum, we did ask your permission before we left,” Steve reminded her.

“And so you know how reluctant I was to give it.”

You studied Steve’s face, watched the tiniest twitch in his jaw as he thought of a million choice words he could say to the woman; but just as quickly, the tension dissipated, and your brother went back to being perfectly at ease as he turned to the King and told him about the fishing and sailing outings that he’d gone on in Australia. That ability to let it all go so easily: that was the inherent gift that Steve had that would make him a great ruler. You didn’t have that same trait, and you knew it was the very reason why you had never fit in here. 

As their casual conversation fizzled out once more and silence returned, you carefully placed your spoon back down on the tablecloth and cleared your throat. Five heads turned to your attention.

“There’s something I’d like to say, something that all of you should know.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother’s fists clench around her silverware. She knew this wasn’t going to be good.

“Go on,” Steve encouraged you because it didn’t seem anyone else had the ability to speak.

Head up. Chin jutted in the air. The most commanding voice you could muster. “I have no intention of ever being queen of this nation. If the crown falls on me, I will abdicate. I plan to announce this intention to the press by Monday. I will no longer participate in lessons and banquets and pleasantries. I will live my life as I see fit, without input from any of you, and it won’t matter in the slightest because I will never be the ruling monarch.”

“That’s preposterous,” your father said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your mother hissed.

Perci smirked. “Looks like your little change in the line of succession didn’t really matter after all, father.”

You turned to him, blinking a few extra times in surprise. Why had you assumed that any royal must feel how you feel? That any royal would grasp at the chance to be anything _but_ royal. Instead, you realized that Perci must have been furious to be knocked down a peg in succession. Rather than making his life more difficult, you’d managed to give him something splendid at this dreary dinner. It was more proof that you were the black sheep of the family.

Peggy was silent, staring at you with wide eyes. Of course, she would be the most hurt by this. You two were as close as sisters on most days, but you had not confided in her on such an important topic.

“You cannot go spilling such insanity to the press. They’ll think we’re running a bloody madhouse in the palace. Do you have any idea how such an announcement would make our family look?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I intend to do whatever I want whenever I want from now on, and the press will be very confused if the future Queen of England is acting so freely in public. They’ll piece it together eventually, so it’s better to be perfectly candor on the matter.”

“We’d have no choice but to cut you off. Where would you go then? What would you do?”

You shrugged. “Maybe crash on a friend’s couch. I have options.”

You caught Steve’s blue eyes narrowing at you. Surely he wasn’t about to give you a lecture as well.

“Bucky put you up to this, didn’t he?”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. How dare he throw something so precious back in your face right in front of your parents? Hadn’t it been Steve who had said that all he wanted for you was to be happy?

“And might I ask who this Bucky is?” your father inquired.

“He has nothing to do with this, Steve. And if you must know, father, he is the man I love. If I am cut off from the family and have to stay at his house, then that’s perfectly okay with me.”

“So, that’s what this is about. You’re in love with some bloke whom you know isn’t a suitable match. You’d rather ruin your life than find someone that we would approve of?” This was your mother again, making horrible accusations, and punctuating each word with a bit of venom.

You stood from your chair so quickly that you bumped the table and caused your bowl of cold soup to pour out across the pristine tablecloth. “This has nothing to do with James!” you shouted. “I am so sick of being a pawn in your diplomatic affairs. I’m sick of being a human being that you created and raised for the sole purpose of taking on an archaic job title when all the rest of you have died. I’m sick of the way this family acts more like a group of enemies than a group of people who actually love and care for each other. I won’t be a part of it for a second longer. You can all go fuck yourselves for all I care.”

You turned to march off, but it was Steve’s pleading voice that stopped you from leaving the dining room. “Y/N, there has to be some easier solution to this that we can all compromise on. Surely, there’s a way for you to live your life as you please without getting the press involved? Have you thought of that?”

“Please enlighten me, _Steven_. Because I’ve been thinking on this for a very long time, and I find myself so utterly out of other options, that it’s pathetic.”

“What if we all agree amongst ourselves that you will never be queen, respect that you intend to abdicate, and allow you to give up your princess duties, but we don’t go to the press? Let them think what they want, and then when Peggy and I have a child— because we will have a child someday, I just know it— none of this will be of much importance anyway.”

“You can’t promise me that mum and dad won’t try to control my behavior to keep the press from speculating if I don’t go public with this. Your suggestion leaves me just as little freedom as I have now.”

“Not if we all were to sign a contract.”

“ _Steven_ ,” your mother said to him in a tone of warning. She didn’t like the fact that he was giving you ideas.

“How would that work?” you asked with a curious tilt of your head.

“Make up a list of all your demands, all the things you wish to be free to do, along with your statement that you will abdicate from the throne the minute it is bestowed to you, and in return, we will demand that you never utter a word of this intent to anyone outside of this family, and Bucky I suppose since I’m sure he already knows about this anyway.”

“What if we don’t agree to sign this contract?” you father threatened.

“Then I’ll go forward with my initial plan, of course, and there will be nothing you can do to stop me.”

“This still doesn’t offer a solution for how to appease the press if the princess is going about acting a fool.”

“I won’t be acting a _fool_ , I’ll just be acting _normal_ for once,” you emphasized with the full extent of your hate for her in your voice.

“Father could make a statement about it,” Perci suggested. It was only the second thing he’d said since you’d dropped the bomb on your family. “He could explain that in this modern, progressive age, a woman such as yourself should be able to act and socialize as she pleases, as long as she is committing no crimes and doing no harm to others. It would pair nicely with all your faux feminism that you do alongside the prime minister, father.”

You looked at the man, studying him closer now than you had since you were a little girl. How long had those frown lines been above his brow? When did his hair grow completely devoid of color? He was old, worn out, most likely long weary of dealing with everyone else’s problems, but he was king, and so it was his job to do so for as long as he lived. It hit you that one day you would look at Steve and see the same weariness in him.

Monarchy was such a disgusting concept.

Your father let his face fall into his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. “All right then, what are these demands of yours?”

That was a good question, but your mind was drawing a blank. It was too much pressure to try to compile a finite list of your heart’s desires while holding furious glances at all of your family members. Today was Thursday. You needed time. You needed to get away from this palace once again in order to hear yourself think.

“Give me three days. I’ll write out the list, and we’ll continue this discussion at dinner on Sunday evening.”

“And what will you be doing for three days? Sitting in your room watching rubbish TV and writing out your silly whims every so often? Surely you don’t need much time for that?” It was all you could do not slap her each time that she spoke.

“No, mother. I’ll be at James’, having a sophisticated discussion with someone who actually cares about what makes me happy. See you all on Sunday.” And then you were marching away, not letting a single one of their words pull you back this time.

##  *******

“Better or worse than you thought?” you prompted Natasha as a palace car wound through the streets of London toward James’ estate.

“Honestly? Far better. You seemed to have them cornered with hardly another option but to do as you wish. And I think Steve’s suggestion of a contract was brilliant.”

“The problem is: I have to outsmart them with each word that I include on it. What if I leave out something important in my demands?”

“You won’t. You’re the smartest person I know, far smarter than anyone else at that table. Plus, you have Sir Bucket on your side to help you out.”

You snorted. “Don’t let him hear you use that nickname. He’ll murder me.”

When the two of you arrived, James had a tender kiss and a large glass of wine waiting just for you. He showed Natasha one of the spare rooms where she could stay, and then he was pulling you into his own bedroom and closing the door.

You told him the story, slowly and methodically, and as you spoke, he placed precise kisses and removed each piece of your clothing with the beat of your sentences. You were laying out all the stress of the day, and he was laying out all the ways that he would relieve it. When he sandwiched you between the wall and his naked body, pulling your left leg up around his hip, you finally let it all go for just a moment. Conceding that the only demand you knew for sure of right now was that James Barnes had to be allowed a permanent spot in your life.

##  *******

“Should I just say fuck ‘em and go to the press anyway?”

“Well, you know my advice is always _always_ to say fuck ‘em, no matter the circumstance. But I think in this case, Steve’s given you a perfect opportunity.” He was resting with his back against the edge of the claw-foot tub, his head perched on the edge.

You were resting, fully submerged in the scalding water as well, right between his thighs. His hands kept coming up to leisurely toy with your breasts. Each time he teased you in this way, you’d play your own game of pushing your arse back just enough to press against his penis. By the time the water changed from steaming to luke-warm, you’d surely be entangled in another moment of passion.

But for now, you were happy to simply tease as you spoke about the things that could be forgotten for a moment but never for a lifetime. “Perhaps I should demand that I move to Australia? I liked it well enough, and that way I could be as far from them as possible.”

“You’d miss Peggy and Steve too much,” he pointed out.

“Good point. There’s no way I can go on living in that palace though.”

“You could live with me?”

“James that’s…. you mean so much to me, and I’m sure we will get there eventually, but this is still new, and I need a place of my own. I can’t be forever worried that I’ll be put right back in the palace if things end between us.”

“So request that they give you one of the dozen estates across the UK or even wider Europe. France might be nice?”

“It’s something to think about, for sure,” you agreed.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you to bed, and we can talk about royal demands all morning tomorrow over French toast.”

“Now I’m convinced you really want me to move to France.”

“Or I might be trying to tell you that there’s no need to move to France when your boyfriend makes the best French toast in the world,” he explained as he climbed out of the tub and grabbed you each a towel.

“Does it ever get exhausting?”

“What?”

“Being so bloody cocky all the time?” you asked with a smirk. But there was fire in your eyes too. Here was that passionate entanglement you had known was sure to repeat. You climbed out of the tub yourself and lowered to your knees on the plush rug, right in front of where he stood.

“You love it,” he claimed with that arrogant quirk of his crooked grin.

“I do,” you admitted before enveloping him with your mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: the final installment! I am going to miss this story so dearly. It’s definitely in my top 3 of favorite stories to write, and I’m so happy that so many of you got joy from the tale of the princess and her Sir Bucket. Thank you for all the support! :)

_1._ _No one other than myself is allowed to provide input on my dating life/romantic involvements/possible future marriage._

_2._ _I will not be expected to attend any palace events. This includes, but is not limited to, charities, interviews, speeches, photoshoots, television specials, royal weddings, and royal birthdays. If I so happen to attend, it will be entirely my choice._

_3._ _I will be allowed to move to Hillsborough Castle in Northern Ireland and live there for the remainder of my life, unbothered by members of the royal family unless specifically invited by me._

_4._ _I am allowed to let whomever I want to live there with me._

_5._ _I can pursue whichever career path I choose without input from anyone. This includes, but is not limited to, selling my photography to magazines for a profit._

_6._ _The business of whether or not I shall have children is nobody’s but my own. And if I do have children, their lives will be dictated by their parents and nobody else in the royal family._

_7._ _Natasha will remain as my bodyguard and move with me to Hillsborough Castle._

_8._ _I can still visit Buckingham Palace whenever I please in order to visit my siblings and their future children._

_9._ _No one in the royal family is allowed to speak ill of me to the press._

_10._ _I will still have access to royal funds._

_Upon these conditions being met, I, Princess Y/N, hereby swear that if the line of succession ever falls to me, I will immediately abdicate from the throne. I also swear, again only upon these ten conditions being met, that I will never speak of them to anyone that might leak the information to the press._

##  *******

You finally peeled your eyes away from the contract that was framed and hanging on your new office wall. It was placed in-between some of your favorite photos that you had taken in Australia, mostly ones of James. You refocused on the prints spread out on the desk in front of you, trying to decide which five would be best suited to the layout you had arranged with a travel magazine. Also on your desk was a first draft of a 500-word article you’d written to pair with the photos. Writing had never been a particular passion of yours, but the magazine had asked you to try your hand at it and say a few words about the subjects of the photos.

You enjoyed this new office far more than your old one at Buckingham. It was roomier, and you had a lovely window that looked out over the sweeping landscape of Northern Ireland. It had taken only a week for you to fully adjust to the move, but now you felt right at home in this castle. For one month, you’d been spreading your wings and tasting freedom, and never had something been so delectable.

James spent most of his time here as well. He’d return to his place in London once a week, but he was always back for more of your fun company and sweet pleasures after merely a couple of days apart. You missed him just as much when he was gone, which he had been for the past two days. So, you threw yourself into your photography and newfound hobby of writing. You’d also started making regular trips to the royal stables nearby, learning about the well-bred horses that belonged to the palace and considering riding lessons at some point.

Things were still tense between you and your brother and sister-in-law. They were both incredibly hurt that you hadn’t discussed things with them ahead of time, and in the short conversations that you’d had with them since, they seemed to still be stung from the omission. But they were visiting you today. Steve had called you last week and asked if he and Peggy might stay for a few days and catch up. You’d happily agreed, eager to finally put all the tension behind you. James would be there as well, flying in a couple of hours before dinner and staying for likely another five or six days.

And then you had done the spontaneous thing of inviting Perci. You’d realized in all your self-centered turmoil that you hardly knew your younger brother at all. You wanted to learn more about his graduate studies and the things he enjoyed and how he felt about your parents and what he truly thought about the possibility of being king someday. Now was as good of a time as any to forge a better relationship with him.

A small staff was working tirelessly to prepare the guestrooms and the decadent meal for the evening. Natasha stood at her usual post near your office door, watching you work, and occasionally glancing out the large window or out the doorway and down the hall. She was just as strong, just as fearless, and just as comforting as ever. You loved her like a sister and were so happy that she was able to move with you to Northern Ireland. Lately, she’d taken a special interest in the stable director, Clint Barton. She always seemed to be especially excited on the days that you wished to visit the horses. She also gave you glaring looks whenever you tried to bring up her fondness of him in conversation.

You finally finished selecting the photos and checked the time. You would probably need your stylist to start on your hair soon. You rose from your chair, catching another quick glimpse of the contract and smiling proudly before heading down the hallway to your dressing room.

Although you despised most aspects of forced royal etiquette, there were some habits of royal life that you were sure would never leave you. The fact that you felt the need to dress your best for the dinner tonight was one of them. Your parents wouldn’t be there, so it would honestly be perfectly acceptable to receive your guests wearing pajamas, but you simply couldn’t do it. Instead, you stared at the four semi-formal gowns hanging from a rack as you sat on a stool and let your stylist carefully craft your hair into large, bouncy curls. A baby blue dress that made you think of Steve. A deep red silk that made you think of Peggy. A regal purple that made you think of the suits Perci often liked to wear. And a royal blue velvet that made you think of Sir Bucket and that comfy couch at his estate. You chose the last.

The man of your heart arrived just as the final curl was hairsprayed into place on your head. He found you easily, probably having asked some of the servants where you were, and as your stylist left the dressing room to give you some privacy, he instantly swooped in for some heated snogging.

“Jaaaames,” you warned him, “I really don’t want to have my hair redone before dinner.”

He lowered his hands that had been slowly creeping toward the hair in question but continued the assault of kisses he was placing along your neck. “I missed you,” was his simple excuse.

And it was a good one. Despite insisting that it was too soon for you to live together, you were constantly craving his presence and felt incomplete when he was away. If it weren’t for the fact that your family would be arriving rather soon, you would have been happy to tumble around with him on the dressing room floor for hours.

Alas, you eventually separated his lips from your skin and pulled on that royal blue dress with some silver heels.

“Could you be any more beautiful?” he asked as he watched you dress.

“I’m sure I could,” you countered with a smirk.

He pulled you close once more, careful not to touch your perfect hair. “I love you,” he confessed, and it was the first time you’d heard those delicate words slip through his soft lips.

“I love you too, James,” you easily mirrored. Because you’d decided long ago that there was nothing in your heart but love for this incredible man.

##  *******

Perci arrived next, a surprise guest in stow. A friend from grad school named Peter Parker. You raised an eyebrow at your brother, but welcomed his friend with a warm smile all the same. You quickly noticed the way Perci looked at Peter as he chatted animatedly to you about his scientific studies, and you wondered if there was something more there than friendship. But you wouldn’t press your brother on the topic. If he ever wanted to divulge such information to you, you would be happy to listen.

When Peggy and Steve finally arrived, they each gave you loving hugs, and you felt it in their arms the way they had finally forgiven you and chose to move on. They complimented the changes you had made in the décor of the castle, as well as your original photographs you had displayed in nearly every room.

Dinner began with warm appetizers, none of that cold soup nonsense, and you were quickly delighted by how light and free-flowing the conversation was compared to any of the dinners you had ever had at Buckingham.

“I have an announcement,” James said at one point after clearing his throat.

“Oh? Are you abdicating the throne?” you joked.

He let out a little chuckle. “No, I’ll leave that to you, Your Highness.”

“Well, what is it then, Sir Bucket?”

“I’m creating an organization for veterans. It will aim to help people decide what they want to do with their lives after leaving active duty and give them resources to deal with any struggles they might have.”

You beamed at him, pride clear on your face. “That’s incredible, James,” you said sincerely before giving him a kiss.

“That really is amazing, mate,” Steve agreed. “If you need anything for it— funding, appearances at charity events, anything— you call me, and I’m there.”

“Thanks, Stevie. I’d be glad to have the beloved heir backing the cause,” he teased.

Steve blushed a tiny bit but grinned.

“Well, not to steal anyone’s thunder,” Peggy said, “but I also have an announcement.”

Everyone turned to her, curiosity burning in each of your eyes, even Steve’s.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. And then: the breathless whisper from Steve, “What?”

She turned to him with tears already falling from her eyes. “It’s finally happened, my love. I’m pregnant,” she said with a wide grin.

You, James, Perci, and Peter all let out loud cheers and clapped as Steve pulled his wife to him and hugged her tightly while peppering sweet kisses across her tear-stained face.

“How long have you known?” Steve asked.

“About a week. I think it happened in Australia,” she informed him with a coy smile.

“I can see how that might have occurred,” he agreed, just as smug.

The table fell quiet again before Peggy said with a more serious tone, “I’d like to keep it a secret from your parents until I’m further along.”

You could see the nervousness in her eyes, how she feared that your mother would stress her out even more once she found out about the baby. Everyone hastily promised Peggy that none of you would say a word about it to anyone until she was ready to make an announcement.

Toasts were made. Jokes exchanged. More laughs shared. Secrets disclosed. Things that you, Steve, and Perci had never felt comfortable uttering under the watchful eyes of your mother and father. But here you were, three siblings so free in your human pleasures, each sitting beside a person you cared about dearly, feeling elated in the prime of your lives.

It was nearly midnight by the time your guests headed off to their rooms and you dragged James along to yours. He quickly set out to showing you _just_ how much he missed you, and you reveled in his touch, arching your back to his grazes, and thinking that being a princess wasn’t so bad after all if it meant being swept off your feet by someone like Sir Bucket.


End file.
